


Remembering the Twelve

by Ruunkur



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 01:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11430042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruunkur/pseuds/Ruunkur
Summary: Based off a post on Tumblr created by Palemarried. I bring you the trolls. They won the game, they created their own world. Now they are being remembered by a tiny village.





	1. The Maid

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my fanfic account, Zanawolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr.com/post/39097401192/if-the-trolls-won-their-game-this-is-how-i-think
> 
> That is the link to the art this was based off of!

The small child looked up at the child like statue. The robes seemed to flutter about the statue though the child put it down to her imagination. She remembered being told by her mother that many of the villagers would pray to The Maid for long summers and short winters.

"Mama, do you have a name for this?" She asked, catching an older woman's attention.

"To explain one of the twelve aspects of the creators of the world would mean to explain all twelve of the aspects of the creators of the world." The woman said, glancing up at the statue before smiling slightly.

"I've only ever seen this statue though." The girl said, looking back up at the horned figure. Her hands were in the shape of the Aries sign, resting against her stomach. "She looks beautiful," the child added.

"Aradia, The Maid. It is said that she brings the long summers and the short winters. Aradia was said to be the first of the twelve beings to start creating our world. She and her eleven friends found our dead planet and created a new world for us. They were said to have been refugees of an old world that was destroyed. No one knows what kind of race they may have been from but regardless of who they might have been, many gather here at the change of the seasons to pray for the best harvest that they can gather." The woman said softly.

"But what about the other beings? Who are they?" The girl asked, glancing at her mother.

The woman shook her head. "Perhaps when you are older, you shall see what the others have done." She mused. "The Maid is all you need to worry about. Wish for long summers and short winters. As a child, you should be blessed with such things. The others that follow Aradia come throughout your life. They all have residents here but they may or may not show up right away." The woman murmured softly.

The girl looked up at her, innocence in her eyes as she nodded happily. "I hope that summer is extra long this here, and that winter never comes." She decided, smiling at the statue before turning and darting off, having spotted a friend.

The woman bowed her head, glancing back up at the statue. "To a child, all they need is The Maid and all the innocence that comes along with her. They do not know the need for hope, miracles...the hardship that comes along with life. May The Maid make the summer longer if only to shed warmth on those around us."

The woman walked away, the statue seeming to move as the people cleared away. A child like shadow darted into the area, eyes bright. "The summer shall remain long, as long as you believe that it will happen."

It was said to praise The Maid for making the summer seem to last two years. Though in the darkest parts of the world, the snow still fell, the long summer seeming to not last everywhere.

The small child looked up at the child like statue. The robes seemed to flutter about the statue though the child put it down to her imagination. She remembered being told by her mother that many of the villagers would pray to The Maid for long summers and short winters.


	2. The Page

The seven year old looked out the window, getting up to pace after a moment. The woman glanced up from where she and her daughter were working on dinner. "What is wrong my son?" She asked after a moment.

"I wish he would hurry up and return," the boy said sulkily.

"Daughter, take your brother to the statue of the gods. Show to him that there is someone willing to listen." The woman said, the girl about to protest. "I can handle the food on my own. You will know which statue I am speaking of. It is where The Maid resides. I believe you remember that one summer."

The girl nodded, hopping off of the stool and turning to take her brother's hand. "What statue are we going to visit? I thought there was only The Maid." He asked.

"There's another statue. They say that as you age, you can see more statues. The Page is who we are going to see." The girl mused.

"And who is The Page?" The boy asked, looking up at her.

"The Page is said to be prayed to for when those wish for someone to return swiftly." She said with a slight smile. She gestured to the clearing, looking up at the second statue. It was another god, one that hadn't been there last time she had come with her mother. "his horns are like that of a bull's, giving us courage that our loved ones will return swiftly. Why don't you pray to him for the speed of our father's return?"

The boy looked up at the statue of the god, amazed at the detail. "He looks like he's breathing," he murmured, bowing his head.

The girl smiled, looking up at the statue before having to give a small sound of agreement. The others around them did not seem to see that the statues of both The Maid and The Page were breathing, eyes opened upon the crowds that were milling about.

"Please bring our father back," the boy begged. "Please return him to us as soon as possible. We miss him and I'm sure he misses us. He's been gone an awfully long time and so we've come to pray. I like your horns too. They make you seem confident that you can bring anyone back as long as they have faith. Please please please return our father to us."

"They say that The Page created the speed in which animals deliver messages. He was also to have said that he created the animals and thus they give praise unto him. Children, The Page is sure to have heard your prayers for your father's return and I will pray also that he is returned safely."

The girl glanced up, seeing the speaker as the old caretaker of the temples. "Thank you sir," she murmured, nudging her brother until he too whispered a thank you.

"Maybe one day you will see the glories of all the gods and goddesses that were said to have crafted this world together. But let us pray that it will not be for a very long time. Now return to your mother and tell her what you have prayed."

The children nodded, bidding their farewells to the caretaker. The girl glanced at the two statues, wondering if there was some movement in them before pushing the thought away and running home with her brother, to hear that their mother had received a message that their father would be returning rather soon.


	3. The Mage

"The future is something that not many people would ever mess with. It is something that clouds the thoughts of every man's mind. They worry about this or that. But they do not believe in praying to the gods. Daughter, do you know who you should go to?" The woman asked.

"I do not know, but I have a feeling you are about to tell me." The girl sighed. She was about thirteen now, growing tired of the tales of the gods that her mother spoke.

"We need insight to the future. I bid you go to the square of the gods and seek guidance from The Mage. He is one of the least sought after gods, though he does give wonderful insight to us if we ask." The woman said.

"And what is the point of asking for insight to the future? Either we continue paying the taxes, or our village shall be destroyed. That is the point. And mother, I believe that we are the only ones left who believe in the gods." The daughter sighed, standing up and looking at the staff in the corner.

"Do as told and do not complain. I would go myself, but I am too tired." The woman sighed, watching the girl walk out of the house, staff in hand.

She headed to the square, glancing around. More people than usual were about, which did not surprise her. It was dark times in the future and they all seemed to be going about their own business.

She looked up at the newest statue, looking at the being. She noted his horns, four in total. She shook her head, also looking at the fact that the others seemed to be avoiding the four horned statue, except the caretaker from her previous trip.

"The Mage, bringer of insight to the future, though many believe that he is useless. Tell me child, are you here to pray to him?" The man asked.

She nodded slowly, looking up at the god. "But I am unsure how he will help us." She sighed.

"Troubling times when one so young comes seeking knowledge from The Mage. Usually only the old go and seek him out. Come and kneel before him. You will know what to do. And may it suits you, whatever you mean to do." He murmured.

"The Mage, one of the most useless gods...of course, if you are here, that does not mean you are useless. I come to pray to you so that I can learn of what I am meant to do. I don't understand why I am here, or why you have appeared. You seem to be the least knowledgeable of the gods and I do not understand your use. But yet, I am here asking for what the future might hold."

The girl closed her eyes, wondering if the others even saw her. She felt a hand rest upon a shoulder, though when she opened her eyes no one was there. She closed her eyes again, feeling the weight of her hand back upon her shoulder.

She kept her eyes closed, feeling as if someone were whispering in her eyes. Visions flashed before her eyes of a town covered in snow, blood on the ground. Terrible screams and another...

She jerked slightly, breaking the vision. She glanced up at the statue, wondering if it was repositioning itself before she stood up. "I do not understand what you meant, but I know for the time being, we must wait. Thank you for the insight of the future."

She turned to leave, sending up silent prayers to The Page and The Maid before fleeing the area, shaking by the vision.


	4. The Knight

Her breath caught as she stumbled through the snow, her eyes darting to and fro. Behind her she could hear the laughs of the men that were chasing her, thought they seemed further back then before. She stopped for a moment, shaking in the cold.

She was unsure of where she was exactly but she felt warmth from the thing she was leaning again. Slowly she glanced up, seeing the hooded figure of something. "The Knight," she mumbled, almost to herself as she peered down at the plaque. "Please, whatever god you are, please protect me," she mumbled, cringing slightly as she heard something approach.

"Oh where did you run off to? I thought we were getting to know you quite well." The man laughed.

The girl, more of a woman but not quite, mumbled another pray, frantically glancing around for somewhere she could hide.

There was a flash in the snow, a man standing in front of her with two sickles in his hands, the colors clashing against his black armor. He glanced back at her, turning to stand in front of her. "These fuckasses aren't going to hurt you,"

She glanced at the statue, shocked to see the hooded figure to have disappeared. "Who are you?"

"The Knight," he growled, sword flashing. "You were the one that prayed for protection, right?" She nodded wordlessly, eyes wide. "Who are the ones that were harming you?"

She nodded at the guys who were approaching, unable to trust her voice. She closed her eyes, hands trembling slightly as she pressed up against the statue.

What seemed like mere seconds later, she glanced back up, the figure moving back towards her. "No one deserved being killed more than those assholes. Don't worry, they won't be harming you again." He promised, holding out a hand to her.

"Who are you?" She asked again, taking in his gray skin and the horns.

"The Knight, god of protection. Fate must've led you here because it sure wasn't luck. Go on home. I'm happy to have been able to help you but you're going to freeze to death if you don't leave soon." The being said.

She nodded slowly, getting up and turning to leave. She turned back to thank him, only finding the statue. He had the sickles out, as if ready to attack at a moment's notice. She let out a soft sigh. "Thank you Knight, for protecting me." She whispered, wondering if any of the other statues were going to jump alive.

She thought of the memory from two years back, of the hand upon her shoulder and the blood on the snow. "Insight for the future, you were warning me," she mumbled, mostly to herself before she sent up another prayer to The Mage, thanking him thought she was unsure how the vision had helped her.


	5. The Rogue

The boy looked slyly at the girl, smiling faintly as he got up to walk over. He was in the square of the gods, though he was unsure about why he was there, only the girl had wanted to talk to him about something. He glanced towards the five statues, who formed an almost half circle. "Hey," he called, getting a few disgruntled looks thrown his way as he walked over to the girl.

He glanced down at her, noticing the statue she was standing before. "Hello," she murmured, looking up at the statue before glancing at him. "Do you know who this is?"

"My sister told me about her once. I think she's the protector of the heart. You're meant to pray to her when you want to have someone to pray to about love or something along those lines. I never listened to her when she went on about The Rouge, I think that's what she called it anyway." The boy shrugged, watching as the girl looked up at the statue.

"She looks like she would be pretty if she were living." The girl murmured, moving as if to rest her hand on the statue base. "They look so young...all the statues I've seen anyway. And aren't there twelve gods that you learn about?"

The boy let out a subtle groan, turning to look up at the statue before shaking his head. "I think it's all useless and stupid." he muttered. "The gods don't do anything for us. It all depends on us. Who cares about matters of the heart? A statue is only good for ranting at."

The girl looked down at the grass, kneeling before the statue and letting out a soft breath. "I think it's sweet." She decided, bowing her head.

"All these gods are useless. What the point are they if they don't even show themselves to be real. They're a bunch of lies." The boy muttered, watching the girl before letting out a sigh, remembering a time where he, too, had prayed to gods for the safe return of his father. He listened to the girl's soft prayers, wondering faintly where his faith had gone.

The girl smiled faintly as she murmured her prayers of love, not moving though the wind was starting to pick up. "Rouge, goddess of heart, please let this work out," she murmured, mostly to herself though her words did carry. "Give me the strength to tell him what I need to tell him. Please," she murmured. "I've heard of the other gods at work. Of his sister being protected by the Knight. Let this help in my love life. I believe in you,"

He frowned, looking up at the statue. She seemed cat like in appearance, making some sort of sign with her hands. He used to remember the names of the signs when he was younger but he had slowly forgotten. He watched the statue, shaking his head after a moment and sending up his own short prayer for help with his love life.

He smiled at the girl as she stood, offering to take her hand and steady her. "What did you pray for?" He asked curiously.

The girl looked up at the cat-like goddess, looking at the other statues in turn before she shrugged slightly. "What else would you pray for when you come to find the statue of the Rouge goddess?" She asked softly.

He nodded, turning to look around at the other four. Maybe there was a point behind it all. He turned towards the girl, listening to the spring winds.


	6. The Sylph

The woman looked up at the statue, shifting slightly. The night was only beginning and she could still see the statues in their places, though it was dark enough to be unable to tell how many there were. And she did not care to know, for she knew the one she sought.

She looked up at the one depicted as the Sylph, otherwise known as the mother of fertility. She had heard of this goddess before, though vary rarely did she ever come to the circle of the twelve. The traffic was slow at this time of night and her husband was bound to be passed out drunk by now. She glanced up at the statue, looking over the face of the Sylph.

"You are the mother of fertility, as I've heard may call you over the years. I've always wondered about you. I heard you were kind to those that prayed to you. My husband and I want a child and we cannot have one. Dear mother, I've come before you to pray for something that would help. Even a child that is lost and that we could care for would be better than none at all."

The words seemed to be lost in the soft wind, though she could have sworn she saw something that made it better. The woman watched the statue, shivering slightly as she felt someone trudge towards her. "Good evening," the woman said, holding a blanket in her arms. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

The woman glanced at her, wondering if she were seeing double. She glanced back towards the statue, gesturing towards it. "I have come to pray to The Sylph. I have heard that one was to come to her with matters and prayers of fertility. My husband and I want a child and we have been unable to conceive one."

The woman seemed to understand, nodding slowly as she considered what she had been told. "Tell me dear, how long have you and your husband been married?"

The woman thought for a moment, shaking her head. "Four years, nearly five. I do not see why that would help when conceiving would be the issue."

"Give it a year yet. All hope is not lost and you are young yet." The woman said.

There was a hood covering her head, though it seemed to be sticking up due to something on her head. "I know but at times...I see the others with their children and I feel as if I have lost hope."

"Perhaps if it is Hope that you are seeking, The Sylph would not be the one to talk to. Give it time my dear and I am sure something is bound to happen. Have faith and be faithful. If you pray to The Sylph, I am sure that she will answer your prayers as long as you have faith. I wish you luck young soul." The woman smiled, offering the other roman the blanket. "Have a lovely night."

She smiled, accepting the blanket and turning to leave. She glanced once more behind her, wondering what had happened to the strange woman, though she felt better after the talk.


	7. The Seer

The woman tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, looking up at the court house. She could smell the justice, hear those that were praying even if they didn't realize it. She turned away, sweeping down the street towards something she was most familiar with.

The circular pavilion was washed with the most recent rain, the statues seeming to be standing taller, though she knew that was improbable. She glanced at the other six statues, turning to the seventh before smiling slightly, studying the third eye, tipping her head back to make note of the statue. She rested a hand on the base of the statue, leaning down and brushing some of the dirt away from the plaque.

"The Seer, known for her knowledge and for being knowledgeable. It was said that she was blind yet she had a third eye that could see everything."

The woman glanced towards the old care taker, nodding her head slightly as her gaze traveled up to the statue, studying the horns. "We learned about The Seer while we were learning about the law. It was said that she had much to do with writing the law, but I never heard the bit where she was blind."

"A lot has changed over the years, but these statues have always remained the same." The man mused. "The studies of the gods have slowly past and less and less people come to look at the miracles that blind faith can bring, even if it is not through the gods, but just having the thought that there is something that wants to know you. Surely as a person who is interested in the law, you have heard of the phrase "Justice is Blind"?"

The woman nodded, not taking her hand off the statue. She felt strange talking to the old man, having from a young age been sneaking out to visit the statue for a long time, feeling a strong pull towards it without never understanding. "Of course I have, we all have. It means that justice does not care what your situation was, but justice will prevail no matter what."

"The Seer once taught another meaning of Justice is Blind. Sometimes justice turns away, but keeps a third eye on everything. It is one of the reasons that she is depicted with a third eye. True knowledge comes within. Within the court, they teach you to read the black and white. But The Seer...she provides what you know, on a deeper level."

The girl glanced at the man, not moving before she glanced back at the statue. She turned away from the man, hearing footsteps trail away. She shook her head, looking back up at the statue, feeling as if the gaze was judging her.

"Heads or tails?"

The woman jumped slightly, glancing around as she heard the sound of a coin clatter to the ground. She leaned down, picking up the coin of where the man had been standing. She shook her head, putting it in her pocket. "Seer, if you are indeed watching and judging, help the court pick a side," she muttered under her breath, turning to leave the area, the image of the statue etched into her mind.


	8. The Thief

His breath caught, heart pounding as he skidded to a halt. He was unsure of where he was, what had happened, only that he had been caught stealing. He had been passing through the town, hungry. He remembered faint memories from when he was younger but he didn't understand why. He remembered moving and now...something had drawn him back?

Behind him, he heard the shouts of angry males behind him, making him sink against the statue, huddled against it for some warmth. He had been running for longer then he could remember that day, having left his horse to wander free and to confuse the men that had been chasing him. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, the feeling of knowing where he was.

He tensed as the voices moved towards him, hugging his knees to his chest and hunching his shoulders. It felt oddly warm for the time of where it was, his heart pounding in his ears. He remembered a tail of a god that would give luck to those who prayed to her. The voice he heard was associated with the times before his mother had been murdered, before his father had become a victim of alcohol. Back when his sister still lived and their mother told stories.

He glanced up, lifting his head to look at the statue he was huddled against. He could have sworn the thing was grinning at him, mocking him, though the eight eyes seemed to stare ahead, looking into nothing. "Please, whatever god you are, grant me shelter," he mumbled. "Give me luck and take the luck from those that hunt me."

He glanced down from the statue, looking at the placement of the hands. The symbol of the Scorpio, the symbol for the god known as The Thief. He couldn't remember what The Thief stood for, only that luck was what she sought to gain. He shook his head, wondering about the situation he was in.

He looked down, wondering if there was a point, wondering what could have happened in the time he had been hiding. He could no longer hear the horses and men, nor the dogs. The win picked back up the longer he sat there, pondering what had happened.

After a while longer thinking about his luck, he stood up, turning to face the statue of the eight eyed god. The eyes reminded him of a spider, though for a split second he could have thought he saw something behind the eyes, something that spoke of a spirit but he quickly discouraged the thought, wondering if it was simply his imagination.

"The luck of The Thief is upon me," he chuckled to himself, moving to look at the bag filled with the things he had secreted away. For one more day, he was safe. For one more day, he had the luck. He pulled out something that reminded him of the eight eyed god, setting it at the base of the statue.

"Thank you for gifting me your luck," he murmured, unsure if he should say anything else. "Maybe one day, you will have the luck of people getting to know your name, instead of your title."

He watched the statue for a moment more, wondering if he could see the spirit that he thought he saw before the cold drove him away from the statue, the forest swallowing the statue away.


	9. The Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the latest review(from FF.net) I received, I've been writing them like they are the aspect. They all have their hands in something and they all help each other, but to the villagers who do not see this, they pray to them for certain things. I wasn't sure how I would do The Bard with the flow of the writing I have been doing it as such, but I think I have an idea. I'm curious to see how the rest of this pans out

The strength in his legs gave out, the woman glancing over at the man before pausing as well, turning to catch him before he fell. "Just a bit further," she said softly, watching him with eyes full of worry. "Don't give up on me yet,"

The man shook his head, struggling to get his feet out from under him. "Just give me a moment," he mumbled through a grunt of pain.

The woman nodded, watching him. "Let me pray for you." She said softly.

"And what god would you want to pray for that would accept me?" He snapped. "I failed her..."

"It was an accident. You did your best. Have you heard of The Heir?" The woman asked, moving to look around where they were. They were on the edge of a strange town, the familiar statues ever present at the entrance.

"Isn't that one of the more exclusive aspects of the gods? Never heard much on him. Only that he was strong." The man grunted.

"Yes, strong would be the word for it. The Heir is known for his strength. He was said to be the one that kept the others up as they went through with building our world. He was said to have given the others the idea to build statues of themselves, to appear as they are needed. He was the one that would not bow to the will of the others. He was strong." She murmured.

The man looked at her, tears in his eyes. "I failed my family," he mumbled, shaking his head. "How am I suppose to overcome that?"

"We're close to the statue, let me show you something." She whispered, helping him up and walking slowly with him to the statue she was seeking, glad for their presence. "Look at him. He is the one that will not bow, not when it comes to strength. Let me pray for you." She murmured.

The man bowed his head, trembling as he sat back down with the woman's help. "Pray then," he mumbled.

"The Heir is prayed to for strength. Please, bring strength upon this lost soul, show him his inner strength and give him strength. Show him that he can use his strength to get over the deaths that have happened lately. Give him strength and help him. You are The Heir and we pray to you for strength."

The man looked up at the statue as the woman prayed, watching it as if it would move. He bowed his head again, relaxing slightly as he felt a sense of peace enter him. "Thank you, I will find the strength to continue."

The woman nodded, looking up at the statue with a slight smile. "We all find the strength to continue, no matter what happens. Go to the inn and they will give you a bed for the night. Tell them you are doing work for The Rogue, they will take you." The man nodded, standing as he she talked before turning and leaving. The woman looked up at The Heir, smiling. "Thank you for the strength to always continue."


	10. The Bard

The child looked around the carnival, eyes wide as he listened to the shouting. It was an annual thing that had started slipping in popularity though something had started to bring the carnivals back, claiming that it was all thanks to miracles. The child looked around, eyes widening when he saw a clown pass.

The clown paused for a moment, turning to look at him before watching with a slight smile, walking over casually. "Do you believe in miracles?" He asked, watching the child with a smile, his eyes a strange color that he could not pin down.

The child hesitated for a moment, glancing around the carnival. He was unsure of where his father had gone, though he didn't feel like he should be afraid of the clown. "Everyone should believe in miracles." He said finally, gaze resting on the clown before his eyes flicked up to the horns, amazed.

"Miracles are the shit bro." The clown said. "The Bard is known as the one to pray for when it comes to all them wicked miracles. Do you know about the gods?"

The child watched the clown, slowly shaking his head. "Not really," he said, tipping his head back.

"The Bard is a god unlike the others. He likes them miracles and he likes to be surrounded by them miracles. Shit bro, he loves carnivals and is said to appear more then the other gods whenever there is a carnival and he's attracted to the wicked miracles that the carnivals bring with them, the happiness and the glee of others." The clown said, squatting down slightly to study the child. "They say whenever The Bard of Miracles is around, people's prayers will come true. The miracles they want, to escape the hard times they face. That's what them fucking miracles are all about bro."

The child took a slight step back, made wary by the clown's language but not wanting to offend him. He glanced around quickly before looking back up at the clown, wondering about him. His clothes seemed to match that of those in the carnival, though they seemed to also make him stand out. The child frowned, wondering if it was the horns that made him stand out, or the fact that his clothes did seem different then what he was used to.

"Everyone needs a miracle in their life. Them wicked things are as slippery as fish. But if you ever want to pray for a miracle, The Bard will be all up and happy to listen to those miracles of yours. Even if you don't have anything to ask for, The Bard likes hearing about all them wicked miracles, otherwise he wouldn't want no part in that wicked elixir of miracles and shit." The clown said. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard someone call his name, letting out a small honk. "Remember, even when everything is good, The Bard enjoys hearing those miracles and how they worked out. Even if you need a pick me up miracle, The Bard is good for that too."

The boy walked over to the clown before he could stand, hugging him tentatively with a smile. He noticed the pin clasped to the cape, wondering what it meant before he ran off. He thought about The Bard a lot, considering the clown and what he had said before he turned his attention to the carnival. He saw the little miracles throughout the day, picking out miracles and sending up a silent prayer to The Bard each time he saw one, wondering if it was all a jest. He also kept an eye out for the clown, wanting to tell him what he was doing, but soon he had to leave the carnival, though he kept the miracles in his mind, thinking that the best miracle of all had been the clown.

He told his parents of this story, though they didn't believe him. And he went to each carnival he could, hoping to run into the clown once again with the strange cloak pin and the stories of The Bard, though he never did and he did not really mind it. He felt as if The Bard was a god of joy, a god that could make any moment joyous, or send little miracles on any sad person's day.

And thus The Bard was known to the boy as a clown to set out making people happy, perhaps in the form of a clown, passing on messages without anyone noticing who he was. Though they, too, noticed the miracles after an encounter with the mysterious clown.


	11. The Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, the witch and prince are out of order.

The girl looked down at the child in her arms, rocking the baby slightly before she glanced outside. She could see in the distance the angry crowd, their distant yelling coming in through the open window. She was unsure of the cause of the argument but she turned, looking over at her sister. She set the child down when their mother returned. "What's going on down there?"

"They're angry about the disease that is spreading through the town. Nothing the doctor is saying will help those that are sick." The woman sighed, slumping in a chair. "Are you starting to get sick?"

The girl shook her head, looking up at the tired woman. "No but she is." She said, nodding at the girl on the bed.

"Let's take a walk. Your father will be home very shortly and the walk will do you good." The woman said, getting up and heading to the door. The girl glanced around to the sick girl before taking her mother's hand, following her outside.

"Where are we going?" The girl asked, walking along side the tall woman, glancing around before attempting to look in her mother's eye, though she was unable to catch it.

"We're going somewhere I thought I would never return to. While the villagers are distracted with your father, you and I are going to pray." The woman said finally, pausing to look at her. "A couple of years ago, after much arguing, they made the part of the village where the statues of the gods lived...they forbidden anyone to enter. But I remember my mother telling me of a god...The Witch. She told me that The Witch was meant to be prayed to for health. This village is sick and I'm not sure if it is because of their anger towards the gods, but I believe it is time to start praying."

The girl frowned, eyes flashing in confusion. "Are you sure mama?"

She nodded, picking up the child and hurrying her pace. "They may have forsaken the gods, but I have not." She murmured, stopping when they got to an older part. The girl looked around the ruins, eyes wide as she noted the run down buildings, the grass covered ground.

"What god are you looking for?" The girl asked, turning in a circle. Near them, she could make out a near complete circle of stone, frowning as she tried to get a closer look before her mother walked over.

"The Witch, she was said to be the healer, the one that people prayed to for life. Only in the darkest of times did those that needed help come to her. It was said that she would look after the health of everyone, until those that needed all the gods the most started to no longer believe in them." The woman said, setting the girl down before kneeling before the cleanest statue.

The girl looked up at it, listening to her mother pray. She felt something stir within the statue, a wind picking up though there was nothing around. The girl watched her mother, wondering if there was something out there, willing to listen before shaking her head. She glanced at The Witch, silently adding in her own prays for the sickness to leave, unsure if it was because she believed that someone was listening or if it was just to help her mother's beliefs.

When they returned home, her father was sitting with her sister, who was talking happily, no sign of a fever. The woman looked at the man, nodding slightly before looking away. She set the girl down, smiling at her. "The power of believe is strong when you know the gods are watching out for you." She whispered softly, kissing the girl's forehead before going to check on the other, the baby having fallen silent.

The girl looked out the window, wondering about the child she thought she saw, before she turned away, feeling cold but happy that her sister was better.


	12. The Prince

"Hope is man's last defense when it comes to war," the teacher said, the student glancing up from his book. He shook his head, slightly uneasy as he glanced around the room. The school day was nearly at an end and he wanted to explore the abandoned village he had found recently with his friend. He glanced over to her, nodding slightly as he tapped his pencil against his paper.

The girl smiled, standing up when the bell rang and swinging her pack over her shoulder, walking over. "Did you figure anything out about what we saw yesterday?"

"No, but I found a book that might include something we found. But we have to go back to make sure of what we saw." He grinned.

They glanced up when a third person walked over, looking at the book that the first boy had shoved hastily under some papers. "Where you two headed off to?" He asked, propping himself against another table to watch them.

"Heading off into the forest." The boy muttered. "What do you want? Don't you have something better to do Dave?"

"A little testy today aren't we John?" The blond haired boy laughed, shaking his head. "Besides, if you're going with Rose, I should at least know where you're disappearing to so I can tell our parents what happened to you."

"We're going to find something that's long been forgotten. Sort of a...treasure hunt, but we're trying to find the origins of where we came from, at least...where the world came from." John grunted.

"It's a hopeless cause. But...I'm interested in coming." Dave grinned.

"Didn't invite you," The first muttered, shaking his head.

"Just let him come, he might enjoy a little stroll into the forest." Rose said with a disarming smile, looking at her brother.

Later, the three set off into the forest, John leading the way following the marks he had made in the trees, glancing around as they grew gradually deeper. "So what's down here anyway?" Dave asked.

"The other day, Rose and I found something that was of interest...there were these statues, though they were mostly covered in moss and stuff. I think there used to be a village out this way." John said. "It's really peaceful and these statues are all in a circle...there's one that's a bit faded then the others with the word "hope" faded away on the base."

Dave nodded, glancing around as they walked. "Are you sure we're going the right way?" He asked before they came within view of the clearing.

It was as if the place had lost all will to live, moss growing over the statues. "It...was a bit cleaner last time I came here." John said, stepping into the clearing. The statues ran around the edge of the clearing, as if the trees were afraid of growing around the statues. "This is what the book describes," John added after a moment, glancing over his shoulder and motioning with his head at the other two. "What does it feel like to you?"

"Hopelessness," Rose murmured, looking around. "They look so sad..."

John glanced at the statues, slightly unnerved at the fact that they seemed to be frowning, discontent with their lot. "I think I found it in this book," John said after a moment, glancing up at the statue. "It calls this aspect of the god The Prince and...he represents hope?"

"People lost hope with the war a long time ago." Dave muttered, crossing his arms. "I can see why they gave up these shitty gods. They don't seem to be good for anything."

"Maybe that's why people would pray," John said, glancing up from the book. It was old, almost as old as the statues looked. "I've been doing my research. It's..." He glanced around, sighing. "It isn't always hopeless to pray in something that people once believed in. Maybe they were right. But what's hopeless is how these statues used to grant people happiness in just believing that they could be heard."

"With the war...it seems as if life has become hopeless. Why don't we bring in a little hope and restore the statues?" Rose asked softly, glancing at Dave.

"Hope isn't something that can be shoved around." He muttered, turning his back.

"The Prince stood for giving people hope back. Hope is something that everyone needs. Hope is something that people can loose, can regain. Hope is something that people need to reach for. Maybe it's stupid, maybe it's not. But hope is what you reach for in the darkest of times, what pulls people through. Maybe...even if the gods that are depicted aren't real, the ideal of hope sure is. Let hope help you. Hope is something that everyone can use." John murmured.

"We've lost our hope," Dave snapped, turning to John.

"Why don't we try praying for hope?" John said quietly. "At least humor me. You can call it ironic all you want. Call me stupid for it, but at least try it once?"

Dave sighed, walking over to John, glancing up at the statue. "He looks like all his hope is lost." He muttered.

"They just have to know that someone is calling out for them. Maybe they need their own hope after being forgotten." John said quietly, looking up at the statue.

Hope...it was something that everyone needed, something to help sooth the pains, even if people didn't want hope, didn't know they needed it.

That is what The Prince stood for; that is what The Prince dealt in. Hope until they were forgotten, but even a little hope in the darkest of times was better then no hope in the brightest of times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I meant to take this chapter in such a direction as this...but it's something I've been thinking on. And hope is something we all need, right? Thanks for reading and I hope you quite enjoyed my fanfiction based off Palemarried art. Lovely art, and I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry it got a bit...different in this last chapter, but it was meant to represent that not all hope is lost even when you're forgotten and left behind. Have a good day.
> 
> Wrote this in the early months of 2013. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Edit: I think I may write a sequel, the kids finding and re-meeting the troll gods.


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